Ugly Marks
by CainaStarsong
Summary: The Dark Mark was the worst thing in Draco's life. But could it possibly lead him to something better, like the slim girl with dark hair going by Astoria Greengrass?
1. Wands and Witches

A/N should I start this? No, I have to work on Injuries. But...this was in my head.

I really based these after years on what J.K. Rowling released about the after lives, so if you think something is wrong - tell me, i might have gotten that fact wrong. Or if you don't think this person should end up with this person - deal. I'm going canon with this.

Disclaimer: Give me a list of everyone who died. Half of them would be alive if I owned this.

* * *

It was an ugly thing, the Dark Mark. Draco would certainly never know _why _the Dark Lord had chosen it. Why the skull was eating a snake, who knew? The snake was probably there because the Dark Lord was a Parsaltongue. The skull because he'd conquered death, or some shit like that.

Draco hated the Dark Mark. It was a black burn, a blot, and standing out on his pale skin, it was only a reminder of all he'd done and hadn't done. It had burned like Fiendfyre when they'd cursed it onto him, and he'd never wanted it anyways. He'd never called the Dark Lord, and had never had any ambition too. Anyways, it was impossible now.

Draco pushed his shirt sleeve down, and stared around Diagon Alley. Just barely two years ago, it had been a gloomy place where people had skittered along, utterly terrified, not stopping to talk. They moved in small groups as if safety really was in crowds, though anyone who knew the Dark Lord knew he'd just as soon kill them all.

That had been two years ago. And all of a sudden, Draco went from Death Eater almost in Azkaban to free, when Harry Potter had shown up at his trial and vouched for him. It was bad enough owing him for saving his life once – or twice, actually. A third time was problematic. Here's hoping that Harry Potter wouldn't show up to save his life another time. That would make four times, and Draco wasn't even twenty.

Diagon Alley was back to its normal state, bright and cheery, people loitering to talk to one another, lots of laughing, and children chasing each other. Kids were getting things for school, as it _was _the middle of summer. As Draco watched, a young boy chasing what must have been his older brother tore out of Eeylops Owl Emporium and out into the street, a girl calling after them.

The little boy was crying, face all snotty and wet, for his brother to 'Give it back! That was mine! I bought it!' The older boy, laughing back at his brother crashed right into Draco, who hadn't been expected that, and grasped the wall nearby to steady himself.

"Sorry, mister!" The boy said, smiling. He was missing his two front teeth. He couldn't have been more six years old, not old enough to really remember the devastation that had ruled the Wizarding World when he'd been four. His little brother certainly couldn't remember.

A teenage girl hurried up, dark hair flying and dark robes swirling, panting from chasing them in the extremely hot for London weather. "I'm so sorry," she said, "I can't believe they ran into you." She turned on the older boy. "Apologize, Steven." She said, pushing him slightly forward.

"No, it's fine," Draco felt compelled to say, "They've already apologized, and it was merely an accident." He pushed himself of the wall, able to stand upright now that the boy wasn't entangled at his feet anymore, and began brushing the dirt off his left hand.

"Mister," Steven said. Steven and his brother looked nearly identical, save one being a few years younger. Actually, Draco didn't doubt that Steven was somewhat what Harry Potter had looked like at age six: untidy black hair and glasses. "What's that?" He was pointing one very chubby finger to Draco's arm.

Draco realized with horror that his Dark Mark was very prominently not covered by his white shirt sleeve anymore. He abruptly pulled his sleeve down. "Nothing." What a lie.

"Nothing?" The younger boy asked, and his brother elbowed him. "It looks like something to me." He grabbed Draco's hand with the innocence that only a child could have, pulling up the shirt sleeve up to take a closer look. Draco snatched his arm away as quickly as he possibly could without actually hurting the child in anyway.

"It's not something you should ever have to see!" The dark haired girl exclaimed, pulling both boys away by the collars of their black robes. The girl glared at Draco. "I can't believe it! You seemed so nice, so civil, so human! And here you are with _that_ on your arm?"

Apparently, she remembered the Dark Lord. She was probably seventeen now, the same as Draco had been two years ago. She probably knew exactly what that Dark Mark was, because it'd been set in the clouds over the house of one of her family members. Maybe her father. Maybe -

This was ridiculous. There wasn't anything wrong with hating the Dark Mark on principle. Draco certainly hated the Dark Mark on principle. She was probably wondering who he'd killed, and why the hell he wasn't in Azkaban.

The girl pushed both of the little boys behind her, keeping her eyes on Draco at all times. "You're horrible! A murderer! You're evil, vile!" Both boys ran off, frightened by her tone. "Stay away from us!" She continued, walking backwards. "Death Eater." She hissed, barely a few feet away.

Draco really needed to find a way to get rid of the Dark Mark.

"Malfoy?"

What? Was that Harry Potter? Draco turned half-way, and saw that it wasn't just Harry Potter. There was that Ginny girl, and the Granger girl holding hands with Ron Weasley. Longbottom was there too. And that not-really-a-twin-anymore, the one with no ear, George Weasley, had his arm slung around Angela Johnson.

Outstanding.

"Hullo, Potter. Weasleys. Granger. Longbottom." He said dully. "Come to beat me down like she was?" He gestured to the dark haired girl who was still standing then, with a scowl fixated on her face and hands curled into fists. Draco did not want to think about what would happen if she got so thoroughly mad she hit him with her balled fists.

"No," Harry Potter said, although that wasn't what everyone else appeared to be thinking – Ron Weasley was scowling, as was George Wesley. Ginny Weasley was looking like her intention wasn't to beat him down, but to beat him up. Or maybe perform a Bat-Boogey Hex on him. He still hadn't forgotten the last time that happened. That had really not been pleasant at all.

"Then what do you need?" He couldn't possibly understand why Harry Potter and his gang of heroes would stop to talk to him at all. Except maybe to save his life. Which, now that he thought about it, was probably in danger because this dark-haired girl was so mad.

"Nothing," Harry Potter said, "Just wanted to give this back to you. It was extremely helpful." He held out a wand. Hawthorn and unicorn hair. Ten inches. Reasonably springy. "Sorry it took me two years to get it back to you, but it was enormously hard to find you."

Draco took the offered wand, which let off a few sparks, like it had missed his owners' hand. He noticed it was polished, well-kept; the way Draco had kept it when he was younger. The dark haired girl squeaked. For all her bravado, she was still scared. Or maybe she was just in awe of Harry Potter.

That was probably it.

"Thanks," Draco said, really meaning it. "I didn't really think that Ollivander would make me a new wand, after all I did to him." He really hadn't done much actually, but he tended to think he did. He'd even brought water and food from the kitchens to Mr. Ollivander, and Luna and Dean when they'd gotten there. But this was the exact reason he was here. A wand. "Why didn't you keep it?"

"Because," Harry Potter said, "I don't need it, and I know exactly what it's like to be using another's wand. It doesn't always work out." He stared at Hermione Granger, who turned pink and muttered under her breath about how 'she was _sorry_, and _honestly_, he'd repaired his _old wand_ in the end…' Harry Potter chuckled slightly. "Hold on a second…whose wand were you using?"

Draco shrugged. "For a while, my mothers, but they buried her with it. For a while, I used Crabbe's, but that didn't exactly respond well. For the past 6 months, no ones. Which was probably why you couldn't find me."

"You've been living like a Muggle?" Neville Longbottom inserted.

Draco nodded. "More or less. I still live like a wizard. Maybe I'm a very rich Squib. Oh, congratulations on your teaching post, Longbottom." He distinctly remembered that being in the paper, something about Neville Longbottom taking over recently for Pomona Sprout, becoming the youngest teacher on staff at Hogwarts. Neville Longbottom turned pink.

Harry Potter interjected himself again. "On the subject of wands, I have another one," Harry Potter said, "This wand was Bellatrix Lestrange's. I know she's probably buried already, but…" He offered another wand, which Draco took. Everyone in Harry Potter's little group stared at it with disgust. That was the wand the tortured Neville Longbottom's parents. The wand that killed Siruis Black. The wand that killed Fred Weasley. They all had a _reason _to hate that wand.

So did Draco.

He snapped the wand in half. "Thanks, Potter." She had always been a shitty aunt, and since she was dead now, thank you very much, he saw no reason to pretend he liked her, and no reason to crack open her grave to place this wand in her cold dead hands. Draco dumped the wand on the ground unceremoniously while Ron Weasley muttered 'Good riddance' under his breath.

"You're Harry Potter!" The dark haired girl breathed excitedly. Draco hadn't realized she was still standing there, but why would she have left? Harry Potter was famous. Extremely famous. He was a savior, really. Harry Potter looked slightly amused.

"Yes," he said, "I am, actually."

"You know him?" She gestured with a pale slender hand to Draco, "But he's a Death Eater." She spat out the name like a curse. And it was a curse, really.

"Not technically," Harry Potter said, "He was kind of forced to be one to save his life and his families' life." Well, Draco thought, that was the truth. Not his father, but his mother he had wanted to save. He cared about his mother. He rather hoped his mother cared about him, but he knew for a fact all Lucius Malfoy saw in him was carbon copy of himself, but this clone was a coward of a boy destined to be shoved around by the original.

"But still! Are you," she dropped her voice, "Friends?"

Draco opened his mouth to say no, thank you, they were not friends, they had hated each other from the moment they'd first set eyes on each other in Madame Malkins when they were eleven, and maybe while they didn't hate each other now, they were clearly never going to be friends, on principle, because of all the shit they'd done to each other, but Harry Potter beat him to it.

"Yeah, we're friends." Harry Potter said, "He's saved my life before, and he helped me destroy Voldemort."

What? Draco very clearly remembered it being Crabbe who had set Fiendfyre to the Room of Requirement and destroyed the Ravenclaw Diadem. All Draco had done was sit there, and fail. And had his sorry life saved twice that night.

Draco opened his mouth to say no, no, no, sorry, that was wrong, no way was that true, but Harry Potter was leaving. Harry Potter probably thought that this was a final favor to Draco.

"Bye, Malfoy." Harry Potter said, and his little group moved along, Harry Potter stooping to pick up a little boy with bright green hair – must have been Professor Lupin's child, Draco had heard that his cousin, Nymphadora Tonks, had married Professor Lupin, and clearly the little boy had inherited his mothers abilities. Draco doubted any little boy could have such brilliant green hair naturally.

"I'm sorry." The dark-haired girl said, turning back to Draco. "I didn't realize you were friends with Harry Potter." It was amazing; Draco thought fleetingly, how talking to a celebrity who knew you by name nearly completely erased all your past sins.

"We're not friends," Draco said finally, "More like acquaintances." Not even that. More like mutual suffering had drawn them together, leaving them in a not-really-hate-but-never-going-to-like-each-other stage. Or a oh-you-saved-my-life-and-no-one-will-ever-let-me-forget-it-that's-embarassing stage. It was complicated.

"What?" The dark haired girl asked, utterly confused. "But he just said you saved his life, and help him defeat You-Know-Who. So how in the world can you not be his friend? He said it himself!"

"He's being exceedingly nice. I was a down-right asshole to him ever since the moment I first meet him when I was eleven. I was rude to him, condescending to his friends – actually, condescending in general - and an absolute horrible person." Draco recalled. "I don't ever really think there was a reason for me to be rude."

"You were just horrible to him?"

"Yes," Draco said truthfully. "I'm rather sure that he, with his nice big heart would blame it on the way I raised; on the way my family is, on my life-style, and would conclude that my fucked-up life was a tragedy. I think it's because I was just a jerk."

The dark-haired girl scrunched her face up, which was. She was really very pretty, with clear pale skin and dark hazel eyes, and long wavy dark brown hair tumbling down her back. "I'm sorry I was so rude to you." She told him quietly, "Truly."

Draco smiled slightly. "It's all right. It's about everyone's reaction – even two years after he's gone. If I hadn't been his, I'd have run away too. That's the reason I only wear long sleeves – can you imagine if I didn't?" Draco didn't especially want to imagine the reaction of everyone on the street.

"His?"

"His. I really shouldn't be talking about this with you." Draco said quietly. "It's not in good taste, to discuss the Dark Lord's doings." Maybe because this was a very uncomfortable subject for Draco – he had been a Death Eater, after all, and had done some rather horrible things, including letting Death Eaters into his school, calling the Granger girl 'Mudblood' over and over – he'd resolved never to do that again – and, oh yes, killing his best friend.

She stared at him. "I'm really very sorry," She said, "I tend to jump to assumptions entirely too quickly. And am often wrong." She spit this last part out as if it were something to be embarrassed about, blushing a brilliant pink color as she did so.

Draco chuckled slightly. "Well, _this_ assumption is understandable - I do have the Dark Mark after all, and who in their right mind would parade _that_ around unwillingly?" He concluded rather bitterly.

The dark-haired girl glanced up at him. "Why did Harry Potter say you were his friend?" She was likely thinking that this was all a big scam, because if Harry Potter said Draco was his friend and Draco said there was no way this was true, then the stories didn't match up, and something was wrong.

Draco snorted. "Because he's saved my sorry life three times already and feels a need to do it a fourth time." That was probably very true. But since it might not be... "Er, that's just a guess though." He added, to be fair. "That's just what I personally think."

"I'm rather curious as to why, if you were a Death Eater, aren't you dead or in Azkaban." She tapped a finger against her mouth, smiling slightly. "I mean, the new Ministry is very strict and uptight about all those things. I've heard rumors."

Draco stared down at her uncomprehendingly. "Who in the right mind would want to know why someone wasn't in Azkaban?" The thought was laughable, really. He supposed there was someone who'd want to know. A documentarian, maybe, though why a biographer would right about him was a mystery, and after Rita Skeeters messed-up versions, Draco didn't think he wanted anyone writing about his life. "But I'll tell you, it's because of Harry Potter."

"I'd love to hear about it." The dark-haired girl said, "Will you tell me about it sometime? Maybe tomorrow afternoon, at the Ice Cream Parlour." She bit her lip, something that Draco thought made her look shy, even if she was clearly anything but, if they way she'd been screaming at him earlier was an indication.

But wait. This was surreal. Unreal. Impossible. Unimaginable. This dark-haired girl was asking Draco Malfoy out on a date. That had never happened to Draco. He'd dated Pansy Parkinson because she was there, and she'd dated him because she was infatuated. Draco had also dated Daphne, a close friend of Pansy's, on and off during the school years, whenever he and Pansy were at odds. He and she were both very clear that getting together was because they wanted to get back on their girl/boyfriends.

But now, here was this girl, boldly asking him out to eat ice cream without knowing anything about him except he had been a Death Eater and was a self-acclaimed asshole. She couldn't really possible want to know about why he wasn't in Azkaban, could she?

Hell, did it matter? "Sure," The words tumbled from Draco's mouth before he could catch them on their way out, before he could realize that he really did want this, this ice cream date to talk about whatever the hell they were going to talk about.

The dark-haired girl smiled prettily. "Great! I'll meet you around 2!" She said, already starting to saunter off back to wherever she had appeared from – likely going to the Leaky Cauldron, since that was the only place that offered a place to sleep in Diagon Alley.

"Wait!" Draco called after her. She stopped nearly 10 feet away from him, looking at him quizzically and tossing her dark hair over her shoulder. Clearly she had no idea why Draco was calling after her. But he had problem with this, Draco did. It was a big problem.

"I don't know your name."

The girl smiled. "I'm Asteria. Asteria Greengrass."

* * *

A/N I should really not be starting this. But the hell. It was going to be a one-shot about the Dark Mark, in the beginning. But then I changed my mind.


	2. Bitches and Broomsticks

A/N kana117 mentioned that J.K. Rowling spelled it Astoria, not Asteria. (THANKS FOR THE REVIEW) When I was finding out who Draco married, I looked on J.K Rowlings website, and the hand-written list there spelled it "Asteria." I did not dig to find out which spelling was right, so I used the hand-written one. And only after I published this, did I realize the official spelling was Astoria. I planned to change it from the second I published this, and I thank you tons for telling me. I feel like validating this too you as a huge giant thank you for the criticism.

Disclaimer: If I'm spelling the names wrong, clearly I am not the owner.

* * *

Draco found it odd that the bane of his existence, the Dark Mark burned onto his arm, had lead to a quaint little date at the ice cream parlor with a pretty girl. It was strange. In all honesty, Draco thought maybe that since his life had been rather miserable, this was karma and he finally something good. But Draco really doubted this. He'd certainly made lives miserable, and it was clear that due to this, his life was going to be, if not miserable, bitter.

Draco also found himself lying in his uncomfortable bed on the second floor of the Leaky Cauldron unable to go to sleep. He'd had this problem before - he'd been unable to sleep every since the Dark Lord had begun to reside in his house. But he really had gotten better about sleeping. It had took nearly a year to start sleeping right after the Dark Lord's had died. Nearly a _year_. But he was better, he really was.

If he was being straightforward, he knew this case of insomnia was due to Astoria Greengrass.

* * *

The morning was overcast and gray as he looked out the window of the Leaky Cauldron. Draco was sitting at the bar, eating the rather amazing bacon and eggs that Hannah Abbott had served to him. He was also trying this new positivity thing where he told himself he _knew _the sun would shine later, but this positive vibe didn't actually work out very well.

The wooden stool next to him squeaked _very _loudly in protest as Astoria - it was strange calling her that when he really didn't know her at all - as Astoria sat down next to him in a whirl of green. Green was Draco's favorite color. How did she know that? Astoria learned on the somewhat clean counter, disregarding it's slightly sticky surface, blinking her dark eyes up at him and smiling. God, she was _very _good at this whole flirting thing.

"You look rather confused, and sort of stunned." She told him honestly, twirling her pale finger around her dark hair. "What are you thinking about?" She was making fun of him, Draco decided, her voice carried more than a hint of laughter. More like outright laughter. She was a master at this mockery business. And mockery was the easiest choice, people mocked Draco all that time. Back in school, Draco had lived to make these peoples lives miserable.

"I'm wondering why Hannah Abbot didn't poison my delicious eggs and bacon after all the crap I put her through during school." Draco said bluntly. He had been wondering this, in fact. He'd been very rude to Hannah for seven years, and was wondering why in the world had she made him such a tasty breakfast, if not poisoning him. "It's really something to wonder about." Though Hannah Abbot had never really seemed to be the type to hold grudges.

"Maybe she doesn't hold grudges," Astoria ventured, still with the same mocking tone, "I mean, I hold grudges. And my sister holds grudges like you would not believe, I can still remember this one time when I ruined her pink dress robes...she was livid. But neither of my parents hold grudges." She told him this like she was imparting the secret to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes famous Nosebleed Nougat.

"What about your younger brothers?" Draco asked, recalling the two little boys who had ran right into him fighting over something, and inadvertently had also caused this whole tale of meeting a girl and running into Harry Potter, "They're pretty young, but do they hold grudges?" Seeing Astoria's slightly confused look, he elaborated, "The little boys who ran into me? Steven and something?"

Asotria's pretty face cleared, and she shook her head, giggling. Her giggle was light, clear. "Oh, you mean Steven and Luke. No, they're not my brothers, but sometimes I feel like they are." she explained, "Nephews. My sister refuses to watch them, ever, despite all the niceties and gifts Aunt May have given her, and so the task of running after them falls to me. I don't really mind, they're so cute!"

"They're adorable," Draco agreed, finishing his very delectable breakfast and placed his fork on the plate. Hannah Abbott walked by, glaring and reaching a hand out for the plate and waiting for a confirmation that Draco was indeed done. He nodded politely. "Thank you, Hannah."

She looked utterly, completely surprised as she took his plate and handed it to the Tom the barkeeper, who smiled and shuffled off to the back room behind the bar. "Finally figured out that rudeness is no the way to rule the world?" she asked, scorn filling her voice. She took a rag from under the counter and began to wipe where a man had just left, flipping and swapping like a whip that Draco would definitely stay _way _out of the way of.

She _totally _held grudges, Draco thought bitterly. Not that there was anything wrong with that. He'd certainly been shitty to her. "I'm not aiming to rule the world, Hannah," he said pleasantly, "Just grew up a bit."

Hannah Abbott rolled her eyes, and walked away, heels clicking. Well, that was that, Draco thought, he had tried to be kinder than he had years before. He turned to Astoria, really very not sure how to proceed with this girl with whom he had a date - could it be called that?- with later... "Told you I was an asshole to her." Well, that was one way to live his life, Draco thought, just blurt out whatever happened to come to his mind at the moment.

* * *

After some back and forth, Astoria had decided to accompany Draco to wherever the hell he was going. Her words, not his. Draco had told her that he had no idea where he was going, at all. He didn't. Maybe he'd go to Gringotts. "What are you doing up so early?" Draco asked, wondering why she'd been up. "Are you getting something for Diagon Alley?" He took out his wand, and tapped the correct brick. He really loved his wand, now that it was actually back.

Something passed over her face, so quickly Draco could have imagined it. "The truth is so horrible," Astoria told him, slightly giggling, "I just didn't want to hear my sister Daphne groan about being stuck here with Aunt May and 'those awful little boys!' Her words exactly. She hates children."

Draco opened his mouth to say something about children, but closed again - privately resolving never to do that again because he must have looked like a fish - because he'd thought of something. "Daphne?" He said, with a feeling of panic. "Daphne? Your sister is Daphne?" This was horrible. Really bad. He hated Daphne. Daphne. Oh, man, he really hated Daphne. She kind of scared him, despite all the times he'd dated her.

"Unfortunately, yes, she _is _my sister." Astoria said, looking up at Draco, "That's how I know your name."

"I'm going to ignore the fact that that sounds somewhat like stalking, and say that I never want to see Daphne, not ever." Draco told Astoria very candidly. As candidly as one could while telling them that they really rather despire their sister, thank you, and did not want to ever be in her presence ever again. How do you tell people that, Draco mused.

"Daphne's a bitch," Astoria confided as Draco's cold gray eyes widened marginally.

"She's your sister, isn't she?" Draco asked. His own mother or father would have killed him if he'd said anything as cruel as that about a sibling, so thank God he'd never had any. They'd probably have killed him even if he'd said his imagined sister or brother was annoying, never mind calling them profanities.

"So?" Astoria flipped her hair over her shoulder, and Draco tracked the movement. "It's true. I hate my sister like I hate my mother."

"You hate your mother too?"

"She never let me do anything. I've never played Quidditch, and I've never went to a muggle town, and I never was allowed to get dress robes without her. She was strict." Astoria's voice floated past Draco, telling him how her mother was really horrible, but she didn't have it that bad, but when she was a child she hated it. And Draco listened, paying attenition, over the occasional statement, but really he was planning. They were not really going to eat ice cream and Draco was not telling his past, because he somehow didn't think he was ready for that.

"Astoria," he interrupted, "I know where I'm going now." And he turned suddenly to the left, his pace speeding up know that he knew where he was going because he'd really been just wandering before. Wandering with Astoria was pleasant, and he liked wandering with Astoria.

"Is that your way of trying to get rid of me?" Astoria looked affronted and kind off mad, and while Draco didn't mean it to be rude, it had certainly been taken that way. He stopped right there in the middle of street, quite suddenly realizing his mistake, because he was an asshole, and that's what assholes due, they stomped on people, and walked away without knowing they they'd even been an asshole, and when they realized, they laughed.

But Draco didn't want to be an asshole.

"No!" Draco fumbled, turning to look at her, "God, I'm sorry, I didn't realize - No, I just meant - God, I don't know. I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way."

Astoria let out a breath, grabbing Draco's hand and pulling him to the side of the street so that the complaints would stop, and she pulled him around to really look at her. "No, I'm sorry. I should have known you didn't mean it that way...but I took it that way." She bit her lip, and Draco looked at her, and even in this crisis, he couldn't help but enjoy the sensation of her hand on his.

"It's really alright," Draco said, "I'm used to coming off like an asshole, it's just...I try not to be an asshole to everybody, but...I especially don't want to be an asshole to you."

And Astoria smiled, brilliantly, blindingly, and Draco sucked in a breath of amazement, because really, she was gorgeous when she smiled like that. And when she smiled like that, Draco knew it was all okay, no damage done. "Where are we going?" She asked as he lead her through the streets, not having let go of her hand.

Draco stopped in front of a store, glancing at her face, which was confused at first but as realization dawned, she gasped and sputtered, and she was cute when she was all out of sorts like this. "Draco," she said, looking at the broomsticks inside the window display, "You're not-"

"Yes," Draco interrupted, "We're going to teach you how to play Quidditch."

* * *

A/N haha, I love Draco. So. I love his bitterness, and I didn't realize, but he's very less bitter around Astoria.


	3. Flying and Falling

A/N kana117, again, I must say thanks. I reread over this and found only a few grammar mistakes, which just shows how bad at grammar I am. I can't even blame this bad grammar thing on th erratic writing style. Ugh. Me equals fail. Anyone know of a beta? Here, beta, beta, beta, come here, doggy!

Disclaimer: Consider this disclaimed.

* * *

Draco found it rather hysterical that this girl could stand up to a someone she thought was a former Death Eater, not even a forced or reluctant one, one who was obviously close to the Dark Lord because he bore the Dark Mark, an "honor" given only to those special few, one who people avoided like the plague. This girl could probably stand up to the Dark Lord himself if her family was threatened, _never mind_ a silly Death Eater. And yet, she was scared of a broomstick. And this was horribly funny.

Astoria had put up a fight, coming up with several good, sane arguments, and a few Draco easily dismissed because, well, they _weren't_ sane. She kept her monologue running from the time Draco had stepped into the shop to buy a couple of brooms, and she'd kept spouting words as they strolled to a nearby Muggle-Repellent practice pitch that the employee at Quality Quidditch Supplies had been kind enough to tell them about, saying that it would probably be mainly empty, throwing in a suggestive eyebrow waggle at Draco. Draco did not like eyebrow waggles. Especially when they were alluding to him.

Astoria had included cost in one of these arguments, and Draco had replied that he needed a broom anyways, because he hadn't had one in several years. He'd said that cost was nothing, because Draco was, to put it roughly, loaded. Astoria had said she was afraid of falling, and Draco had said that they were magical - there were ways around falling, and they didn't have to fly high - he hadn't planned to take her to the clouds. Funny how she didn't mention a (fake) fear of heights. She'd also added that she hadn't been on a broom since flying lessons her first year - she had apparently flown straight into a wall and spent a few weeks in the hospital wing.

The main point was she had tried in vain not to get on that broomstick, but the fact of the matter was either was, she was getting on that broomstick.

The practice field was pretty and green, with hoops set up close to the ground. Toddles were playing on toy broomsticks, while their older siblings laughed at them for having the baby brooms - they were riding around on the real deal. Learning how to fly. Draco distinctly remembered learning how to fly on a real broomstick. He had been six, and remembered it being almost like the children over there, although he'd been in the Malfoy Manor's yard. He also very clearly remembered running into something, and he definitely remembered his father smacking his already hurt face, hard, and proclaiming that he an utter _idiot_, and _how _could such a _stupid _boy be a _Malfoy_?

"Draco," Astoria said firmly, bringing him solidly back to the now, "I really do _not _want to get on that broom!" She crossed her arms, and pointedly did not take the broom that Draco was holding out to her. Draco raised an eyebrow at her.

"Come on," Draco said, "It's a broom, it won't bite." Astoria didn't move. "Look, I really like to fly. I think that if you got on a broomstick, you would too. You're scared because of getting on the broom because you ran into a wall, and I did that my first time too, and I still got back on the broom." Seeing Astoria's look, he added, "Yes, I promise I really crashed into a wall the first time I ever rode a broom. Clearly, that was another of my failings, along with being nice, learning how to do a proper cleaning spell, and keeping my best friends alive. Now, _please_, get on the broom."

The long speech was worth it or maybe it was the final please, Draco thought, but Astoria reached out pale, shaking fingers and grasped the polished, smooth wooden handle of the broom. Finally, he thought, progress. "Come on," he coaxed, "Your hands go here - no, hold it like this-" He rearranged them on the broom. "Not that far along the handle, you need to be comfortable -" He gradually coached her all the way through getting on the broomstick. "On the count of three, give a light push - a tap, really - and hover."

Astoria gave a him another one of her infamous looks. That look, Draco had come to learn, meant utter defiance, complete hatred of being commanded, and a strength that meant she would do exactly as she please, never mind what anyone else wanted from her. "No." She told him once again.

"I did not coach you all the way through getting on that broomstick just for you to tell me that you weren't even going to get off the ground." Draco told her flatly, "So too bad. Push off the ground." He told her. She shook his head. He nodded back at her. "Come on, Astoria." He really hoped that she'd do this. It had been a long hour or so just to get her onto the broomstick - let alone actually flying. And if had to keep coaching her through this, he was going to go insane. He really was. He wanted this girl on the damn broomstick!

"What if I fly so high that I can't even see the ground and then I fall?" She asked nervously.

"Then I'll be shipped off to Azkaban for killing you, and not even Harry Potter could save my ass." Draco said without skipping a beat, then catching sight of her suddenly terrified expression, he laughed gently. "Relax. FOr one thing, not seeing the ground is nearly impossible. And if you start to go too high, I can fly up and help you."

"What if you don't?" She asked again, fear shot through her voice. She focused her eyes right on him, turning her head to her right to look directly at him, and he found himself caught in her green eyes. He shook his head gently to clear him of that, and Astoria took it to mean that he was shaking his head as to confirm this would not happen.

"I _will_." Draco told her sincerely. He would. "If anything, I'm a man of my word. Now push off the ground." He commanded her, looking down at her feet, which were planted firmly on the ground beneath and looked like there was no chance of them getting so much as a centimeter of the ground. He was wrong, apparently.

Her face was terrified still, but she'd taken in a huge breath of air and pushed of the ground. "Draco!" She whimpered. But this was going well. She hadn't pulled a Neville Longbottom and ended up high in the air before dropping like he did the first time Neville Longbottom had rode a broomstick. Draco remembered that day distinctly. He'd shown off that day, but Harry Potter had done better.

"Wow, look at that." Draco said, "You did it." He asked her, "Was that really so bad?"

She glanced at him, still hovering a few inches of the ground so that her face was level with his. "No," she said reluctantly, "It's kind of-" Before she got any farther, she tumbled to the ground, landing in a heap as her broomstick gave a sudden buck. Draco caught runaway broomstick before it got farther then a few inches, and squatted next to Astoria. "Are you okay?"

Draco didn't mean her physical well-being - it had only been a few feet onto grass, after all, but he was determined to get her to fly, and if this caused her to go back into the scared silly, reluctant, terrified of the broom, let alone flying, forget flying high, and he had to pull her through all of that again, he might scream.

He needn't have worried. She looked right up at him and asked if she could try again. Draco pulled her off the ground and handed the broomstick back to her.

"You were right, Draco." Astoria told him, eyes shining, "I needed to get back on the broom."

* * *

You should review. Because that would be cool. Someone please tell me her eyes were green in the last two chapters, cause I was too lazy to look. This was hard to write, because how the hell was I supposed to know how to coach someone onto a broomstick? It took a long time.


	4. Rebelling and Romancing

A/N I try to start out always with something relating to the Dark Mark. But it's hard. This one was kinda lame... OH YEAH I AM SO INTENSELY SORRY.

Disclaimer: Consider this disclaimed.

* * *

It had taken Draco a year to get used to seeing the Dark Mark imprinted on his skin - a year before he could look at and remember anything but how much he'd hated it. It had taken him a year before he could look at it and not remember all the horrible things he'd done. It had taken him that long - a year - just to feel comfortable on a broomstick. An additional year before he even bothered to get on the broomstick without the supervision of his father, or his instructor. It had taken him yet another year before he was confident enough to show off, to try tricks. 3 years before he'd even known that riding a broom was even fun.

And yet, Astoria had beaten all odds. She had gotten used to being on a broomstick, and clearly thought it fun, if the way she was laughing was any indication - and she's done it in less then three hours, compared to Draco's three years.

She really was something, Draco thought, leaning back on one arm and shielding his eyes against the sun with the other. She was busy racing around the pitch, he was sitting in the grass, just watching. And while her flying was sloppy, she was having fun and she was on a broomstick. This, in Draco's eyes, was a huge goal.

She landed messily beside him. "I can't believe I ever went so long without getting on a broomstick." She collapsed beside him, chest heaving. Her long dark hair was spread out on the vibrant grass, and her emerald eyes were sparkling. "It's amazing, invigorating, it's - just - wow!"

"How'd you get from one place to the other? Floo powder? Are you old enough to apparate yet?" Draco mused, though that didn't make sense, because if her mother was _this_ over-protective about a silly broomstick, there was probably no way Astoria'd have been allowed to learn to apparate. Or would be, though if she was too young to apparate, Draco might go crazy.

"I'm almost seventeen," Astoria said, a shadow crossing over her face. "I've got one more year at Hogwarts. But my mother would never let me learn. I'll probably have to sign up for the classes all quiet, all secretive-like. I don't understand how she expects me to get around without knowing how to Apparate. Do you know how to apparate?"

"Yes," Draco caught his bottom lip with his teeth, not really sure how to respond to that -_ she was still in school, God, she's still in school_ - but Astoria fixed that problem quite easily. She never seemed to have any problems admitting was was on her mind, or speaking up when something needed to happen, like Draco did.

"Stop," Astoria said, "Yes, I'm still in school, just don't think about that for a moment," and the strange thing was that Draco actually followed her orders - It didn't matter if this girl was a few years younger, did it? - and somehow, Draco didn't mind taking the orders from Astoria either.

"Right," he said, shaking his head, "Er, do you want to give it another go? Flying, I mean."

"Alright, then, one more go," Astoria said, picking up her broomstick, "But you're coming up with me this time." She mounted her broomstick, but didn't kick off, and instead waited for Draco.

"I am?" Draco did not think that he getting on a broomstick and flying next to her. But there she was, looking at him like that, and he didn't think he'd be able to stay on the ground while she was _looking_ at him like that! Who did she think she was, telling him to get on the broomstick, and who did he think he was, wondering who she thought she was?

"You are," she said firmly, "Come on, get on your broomstick." She looked expectant, waiting there, and Draco didn't found that not only could he not say no, he didn't want to say no. So, in the end - god, she was still looking at him like that - he climbed onto his own broomstick and they kicked off.

"You're pretty good for having only started three hours ago," Draco said, as they headed around the pitch. They were high up, higher than the ten feet Astoria had kept when practicing by herself. She leaned down low over the handle of the broomstick, dress flying up all around her and hair all in her face.

"Yeah? Maybe I should go out for quidditch," she joked, "I'm in Ravenclaw, you know. I'd bet a hundred galleons that you were a Slytherin."

"I was," Draco said, doing tricks and hanging upside down from his broomstick. He qouted, "'Or perhaps in Slytherin, you'll make your real friends. Those cunning folk use any means to achieve their ends.'"

"I don't suppose you memorized the Ravenclaw bit, did you?"

"Nothing comes to mind," Draco said, "Some bit about inteligence, I suppose, and cunning - I didn't care too much because I wasn't exactly _in_ Ravenclaw and - You're leaning a bit too far."

"I am not." Astoria said saucily.

"You are." Draco said, "You're going to fall." If she leaned too much farther, her broom would go in a nose dive because the weight wouldn't be distributed right - there would be too much weight on the front end for an even flight. Draco glanced at the ground. They weren't far away, but they were still pretty high up, but he could catch her.

"I'm not," she said, but she was, Draco could see the nose of her broom dipping down and suddenly she was sliding forwards, her mouth open and screaming, her eyes level with Draco's feet, and he was reaching for her, nose diving himself, but on purpose to catch her, and this was much more horrible than reaching for a Snitch, because all he lost if he didn't catch the Snitch was points and if he didn't catch Astoria that was it, no do overs, that was the end, and it'd all be gone-

His hand closed around her wrist.

* * *

They were lying there on the grass, broomsticks at their sides, when Astoria rolled over. Her face was still pale and her eyes still wide, but she looked better now, not horribly pale. Once he'd caught her, she'd stopped screaming as he'd pulled her onto his broomstick, but she hadn't said much as she lay on the ground next to him. "Does that happen to everyone, Draco?"

He looked over at her, turning his head but leaving the rest of his body sprawled out all over the bright green grass. "Usually," he said, "Everyone's crashed several times on a broomstick, and everyone's fallen more than that too."

"Have you ever fallen?"

"All the time," Draco said softly, "Far too much for my father's liking. Or mine." He could remember the sharp sting of the cld air as he fell through it, he could remember the solidness of the ground against his back as he thudded against it, the horrible swimming confusion that was clouding his head.

"I should have listened to you." She said softly, into her arm. She probably didn't like admitting this to him, that she'd been wrong, and Draco understood, because he'd never really liked that either - she was at least brave enough to say out loud that she had failed. Draco had just annoyingly strutted around pretending he was still right.

Draco rolled over to face her. "Yes, you should have. But if it helps, I doubt that I would have listened either." He was lying, of course, as a little boy following his father around the house, he had always done exactly what everyone had told him to do, because it was horrible and painful when he didn't. So, it made sense that at school he would act like he ruled everything, and everyone - because he never got to.

"I bet you would have," she mumbled, and he had to stifle laughter, because, again, Astoria was right. somehow, she could read him just like a book.

"Maybe," he said, "Hey. Look at me." And she did, lifting her dark head up and staring him right in the face. "It's okay that you fell. Falling's good. But you still have to get on the broomstick. Promise me."

"I promise, but Draco," she said, and that stunned him for a moment, that intense, shocking gaze she had in her bright eyes. She looked like she was going to say something, but changed her mind. "I need to get back to Diagon Alley soon. My aunt will be wondering where I am, soon. I told her I was going out to breakfast."

Draco pushed himself up of the ground, shouldering his broomstick. "Alright, come on."

"Just like that?" Astoria asked, unbelieving. Why was she looking at him like that, he wondered abstractly, "That was so...so..."

"So what?" Draco interrupted, extending his hand to her, to help her up.

"So _unromantic_," she said finally, and Draco sucked in a short breath. She took his hand, and he pulled her up, and close. "But somehow," she said a little breathlessly, "I don't mind."

* * *

Today was a good day, Draco thought as he lay in his bed in the Leaky Cauldron, hands behind his head. What had happened to his reclusive, plain life? Boring, taking care of his father's things, just twiddling, doing nothing, existing, but not living? He wasn't complaining, but somehow it didn't seem right that he, Draco Malfoy, should get to have a nice day.

But he did. And something told him that the next few days were gonna be good too.

* * *

A/N Okay, cheers for finally getting this chapter out, sadness because hey - I'm not really happy with it. It's kinda short, and it felt really forced. But at least I got it out. Ugh, and maybe the next chapter will be delievered in less than a month. I'm so sorry for the long wait, and I'm sorry this chapter wasn't up to par. At least, the end wasn't.


	5. Greetings and Goodbyes

A/N LOOK THAT WAS FAST - what? It's not? Again, so sorry. I can plot out the chapters, but getting Draco's haphazard thoughts in there - man, that's hard. I didn't even do it well this time. Oh, yeah, Bucky5 - I didn't mean to make it like he was living at the Leaky Cauldron. But all shall be explained. It is an inn, after all.

* * *

The harsh, thick black lines of Dark Mark were the first things Draco saw when he opened his eyes - his arm was slung over his face in an unconscious attempt to block the sun. At his own house, he had thick curtains to block the sun, because he had a bad habit of throwing his arm over his eyes in the morning because of the sun leaking through the windows, and the Dark Mark was just not something he wanted to see every morning when he woke up. Who would want to see that first thing every day?

Of course, the room in the Leaky Cauldron had no curtains.

Draco decided that he'd probably have to go back to the Manor today. It might have been the Dark Mark that made him realize it, but it wasn't the only thing. So he was going back - Astoria or no Astoria. He couldn't deny that the reason he had stayed the past few days was her. He'd come to get a wand from the wandmaker - which he had done - and stay in the Leaky Cauldron because he needed to do some semblance of shopping - which he had done.

So, he was going back today.

Draco got up, and moved slowly around the room pulling on his trousers, and shirts, and socks and then stood in the doorway and made sure that he had absolutely not forgotten anything, because he didn't want to have to owl Tom and ask for the things he had forgotten, before heading out the door.

The first person he was was Hannah, who looked busy and not like she wanted to be bothered. "Hannah, is Tom around here somewhere?" Draco asked quietly, and Hannah nodded absently - she was preoccupied with several flasks and plates that she must have been trying not to spill - towards the end of the bar, where the old landlord sat with a quill. Draco hurried over. "Hullo, Tom."

"Why, Mister Malfoy." Tom looked up with his rather infamous grin, the one that usually sat Draco's teeth on edge and gave him jitters. "Are you checking out today or would you like to stay another night?"

"I'm checking out today, Tom." Draco said, pulling the few shining coins that would be the price out of his pocket and placing them on the counter. "Here you go."

"Thank you, Mister Malfoy," Tom said, standing and taking the coins over to an completely ancient looking cash-register. "Would you like a firewhiskey?"

"No, thank you, Tom." Draco said, "Maybe on my way out." He headed out to the small bricked up back, taking out his wand and standing back as the bricks melted away. Maybe he would head to Gringotts, then he would go Eeylops Owl Emporium and get something for his eagle owl. His faithful eagle owl, Athena.

"Hello, Draco." Draco has felt before as if he could pick out Astoria's voice in a crowd of a hundred, and she catches his arm and laughs, he feels it again, along with a rush of warmth. "Where are you off to?"

"Not sure," Draco said, "Probably just going to go into Eeylops and get something for my owl, before I leave." He nodded down the street at the bustling store that he was now headed too.

Her face fell, and Draco bit his lip. "You're leaving?" She asked quietly, and the hand clutching his arm became tight as Draco nodded. He didn't want to leave, didn't she knew that he'd stayed because of her? No, of course not, why on earth would she know that. "Can I write you?" She asked quiwtly, in a very unbrave manner. Normally, he'd think of her as a fitting Gryffindor, but not now.

"Of course," Draco said, "You'll get to tell me all about who kissed who and what girl spilled pumpkin juice on you-" She shoved him, and he swerved, laughing. "Okay, sorry, I didn't mean that. You can tell me about the Quidditch matches you'll go see now that you know how to play." She had admitted yesterday, as he taught her the basics of Quidditch, that she'd only seen a game once. "Maybe I can actually help with your N.E.."

"You could?" She said, "Really? Are you any good at Potions? Or Herbology? Those are my worst classes." She made a face as she dodged around a group of witches talking about Viktor Krum. "I'm absolutely horrible at Potions."

"You horrible is probably my decent, you're in Ravenclaw, you should know it all by now." Draco said, delighting in the look on her face, a mix between happiness and annoyance, and in general, amusing, and something he didn't think he'd ever caused. "I'm good at Potions," he mused, "Actually, I suppose I was a good student, wasn't I?" He'd gotten good marks on everything, except perhaps History of Magic, but no one got good grades in that. His had been higher than average on account of learning it all by his father's hand.

"How am I supposed to know?" Astoria said sarcastically, rolling her eyes, "I didn't stalk you when we were at Hogwarts. Well, not all the time." She favored him a grin, and he raised his eyebrows good-naturedly. A day or two ago, she'd said that her sister was very rude about him on the rare occasion that they'd talked, and she'd stuck up for him. "What else are you good at?"

"Dueling," Draco said decisvely, "Non-verbal spells. Transfiguration." All things his father had taught him, or Snape. Dueling was "a good sport for a Malfoy," his father said, "Do it right." "I suppose that's not much help. What about Quidditch? I'm good at that."

"That's not a class, but that was the one match I watched," Astoria said. What was she even talking about, Draco wondered, the one match she watched? "You were in it. You won." Oh, he thought, oh.

"Mmm," Draco said, "Who were we playing against?"

"I have no idea." Astoria said merrily, pushing open the door the store. She tilted her head. "I've always wanted an owl," she said, reaching out and stroking the head of a black one. "My mother always said she'd get me one if I passed me N.E.. What's your owl like?"

"Athena?" Draco said, startled into answering, "She's my eagle owl. I got her when I was ten. She's nine years old." He picked up a box of treats that she'd like, and took them to the counter. "I suppose I should get a new owl, let her rest." But he'd feel horrible if he did, he thought, Athena had been the one constant and his best companion, even if she couldn't speak. It's not like Crabbe or Goyle were particularly loquacious.

"Astoria?" A tall woman with brown hair grabbed the girls arm, but gently, not in the way Lucius would have grabbed his son's arm - which had always been rough - and Astoria didn't react violently, or annoyed. "Dear, your sister asked me to tell you she was looking for you."

"Of course she is," Astoria muttered, and Draco wondered if Daphne was watching the little boys, and not particularly liking it. So she needed her sister. Astoria then said more clearly, "Aunt May, this is Draco. Draco, meet my beloved Aunt May."

"Dear, you're too kind!"

"Hello," Draco said. This woman looked nice, he decided, in her jaunty bright purple robes, smiling widely and laugh lines around blue eyes. She was tall, and pleasantly plump, but not fat.

"Hello!" She said cheerily, "Astoria's said many nice things about you!" She was holding a small owl, that was hooting softly and looking around and ruffling it's feather's every so often.

"You as well," Draco said. There was something about this woman's cheeriness that made it impossible not to smile, and it's not like it wasn't true - Astoria had said often that she wished her aunt was her mother. Draco didn't. "Thanks," he said the wizard at the counter, taking his bag.

"Dear," Aunt May said to Astoria, "I've got to go to Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Steven's birthday is coming up. Meet me there later?" When Astoria nodded, Aunt May left her and Draco on the streets, flouncing through the crowd before she was swallowed up.

"I like her," Draco said throughfully, "She's very nice."

Astoria smiled. "Oh, I just love Aunt May. She's so wonderful, and her sons are too." She sighed. "Do you really have to go?" It had been too easy to forget that Draco was leaving for his manor soon, in the quiet conversation they had.

Draco nodded. "I've already stayed far past the time I was going too," he said sorrowfully, because that's what he was, sad to be leaving her. She brightened his day.

Astoria tilted his head. "I've got something for you," she said, holding her hands behind her back. Draco had not expected any gift, nor was he giving one, and he was surprised that she'd thought of one for him.

"You didn't have-" he was interruppted.

A pair of cool pink lips were pressing to his, Astoria was kissing him, really kissing him, and it was amazing, and magical, and electric, and suddenly over. "You'll write me, won't you Draco?" She said softly, and he could only nod in stunned silence before she smiled widely and told him good-bye.

He liked kissing her.

* * *

A/N Ngh. I did like that, but this one was so conversationy, not enough Draco-bitternessy. Oh, well, I did like it. The next chapter will probably be letters.


	6. Letters and Lover Boys

A/N lookie, lookie, lookie, yay. Fast! I love this chapter so much. I don't know why... it's not very good. Oh, and since I forgot the disclaimer in the last chapter, BAM!

Double Disclaimer: I don't own. I don't own. I don't - wait, no, that's three.

* * *

_Draco_, the letter started, _I've never done this. This letter writing. I mean, yes, I've sent letters to people, but never like this. Like a long distance thing. It's usually just an occasional note to Mum and Dad, or Daphne. Do you know what I mean? I'm not even quite sure that I understand. _

_It's odd. But I think I can do it. I mean, I might as well try._

_I don't know what to write about. What could I write about? I refuse to write about, as you said, who kissed who, and what sorry jealous girl spilled pumpkin juice on me._

_Astoria._

_P.S. This wasn't even a long letter. I'm so bad at writing letters._

* * *

_Astoria,_

_I completely understand. I've never done this long-distance letter writing thing ever. It's a bit confusing, but I understand._

_You can talk about -_

Someone interrupted her letter reading. "Astoria!" The girl in question looked up from her letter she was reading. Her friend Nicolette Renshaw was leaning over the edge of the chair, and added slyly, "Who's Draco?" She'd been reading next to her friend, and had seen the tidy script and the scrawled name at the bottom of the letter.

"No one!" Astoria said, folding the letter and trying to tuck it away, but Nicolette was fast and plucked it right from her fingers. Astoria reached up to grab it, but Nicolette was much taller than she was. "Nicolette! Give it back!"

"Not unless you tell me!" Nicolette taunted, leading the way up the stairs to their dorm. Astoria chased after her, still shouting.

"I'm not telling! Just give it!"

The girl considered for a moment, and Astoria's hope rose, but then her friends shook her head. "Nope." She made to open it and Astoria screamed.

"Okay!" She said, "Draco's someone I met in Diagon Alley over the summer."

Nicolette looked disappointed. "That's it?" That was not was she was hoping for. Or expcting. She'd been picturing romantic picnics, and sunset walks, and red roses. Nicolette was a romantic. "I thought it was some amazing summer romance!" She passed over the letter, feeling slightly depressed.

Astoria sat down on the bed. "Who says it not?" She said, flashing an evil grin at her friend and drawing the bed hangings closed to read her letter while Nicolette gaped.

_Astoria,_ the letter read.

_I completely understand. I've never done this long-distance letter writing thing ever. It's a bit confusing, but I understand._

_You can talk about what's going on at Hogwarts. I know that the first Quidditch match of the year should be soon, are you going to go? Who's playing? If it's Ravenclaw and Slytherin, we might have a battle. Though we used dirty tactics... I shouldn't tell you that._

_I'm thinking about selling my manor. _

_I don't like it. It's big. It's drafty. It's cold. There is no love there. I don't want it. It reminds me of the Dark Lord. I don't know what to do with the house-elves. I've never sold anything before. I might go over to the MacMillians home, which was destroyed and offer to sell. I don't know. I'll get a small little house, just for me. No house-elves. I haven't used them much in the last few years anyways. I think I just want to be free, and even if my mother and father are dead, their things are still around, and I don't want any of them._

_Draco._

_P.S. I'm bad at writing letters too._

Astoria smiled and penned an answer.

* * *

"Sir," a house elf squeaked, and Draco looked over from his book. "This just came for you." It was a thin letter with his name in Astoria's loopy penmanship.

"Thanks," Draco said, accepting the letter from the letter, who bowed and told him dinner was ready. He tried hard to be civil to his house-elves, to treat them well, because he'd never been keen being handed a teacup by burned fingers - it made him feel like crying - and he thought he did alright. At least, the house-elves weren't forced to punish themselves if they were being bad. He treated them well.

He scooped something into his mouth, reading the letter.

_Draco._

_The first Quidditch game is between Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. I think that I'm going to go. One of my friends from Hufflepuff is on the team - Keeper. This'll only be, what, my second game? Well, whatever. I'll have fun now that I actually understand the rules. My friends have all been begging me for years to go, and I never have. Thanks for curing me!_

_I'm sorry about you parents. But for me, I'd want to be free. A house full of memories could be dragging you down. Why do you even still have it? A whole manor for one person? It's a little maddening. You could always, for example, buy a small little house and keep the manor for later in life. You might need the money sometime, or even just a home for later. But, if you keep it, are there taxes or something? I've never understood that business thing - my father takes care of all the business, and of course that makes sense, because why would a nearly seventeen year old girl run her family's estate?_

_Astoria._

* * *

"Astoria! You've got another letter from your lover boy!" Astoria blushed furiously as Nicolette announced it to the entire common room and everyone looked over.

"Nicolette!" She hissed, "He's not my lover!" _Not that I don't wish he was_... she fingered the book she'd bought for him at Hogsmeade. It was one of her favorites, and she thought that he might like it.

_Astoria._

_Sorry about the short letter, I'm actually going on a rather obnoxious business trip and was just about to Apparate when your Owl came. I didn't want to leave this until next week. _

_My father made sure that I learned everything at a young age. He didn't want me to be an 'incompetent fool of a son.' But I think I will buy a new house - I do have the money to spare. Maybe a little flat in London, close to Diagon Alley, I think that'd be nice._

_Oh, and Happy Halloween. My first year at Hogwarts, a troll got in and the Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor came running in during the feast. Did anything as exciting as that happen?_

_I'm off - I might die of boredom, so if I don't answer your next letter, you'll know why._

_Always. You're almost seventeen, you say. When's your birthday?_

_Draco._

* * *

The next letter came with a package, a moderately sized parcel wrapped in the customary brown paper. The note-worthy thing was all the moving doodles drawn in black ink. They were everywhere, covering the entire package. Smiley faces, and frowny faces, and hearts and trees and clouds and spirals, all moving and writhing and jumping off the page. Draco unfolded the letter with one hand.

_No, nothing like that happened,_ and Draco registered dimly that she had left off the address on the letter. What did that even mean? He wondered, spreading out the letter.

_Although, someone did jinx the tables into combining into one huge table, and if you tried to sit next you someone in your House, you were ejected from your seat. I spent the evening laughing with a burly Gryffindor boy in my year, and a fourth year Slytherin girl. The Headmistress, Professor McGonagall, allowed it to happen. Would Professor Dumbledore have thought it was funny? I think he would have, but I can't remember him very well - I never had a change to ever meet him up close, although people have said that during Christmas break, he conjured up a small table if there were very few people. I always had to go home for Christmas._

_I also sent a book that I got up in Hogsmeade. It's one of my favorites, and I think you'll really like it. If you don't, I'll have to come hunt you down. I'm such a bookworm. The library at my house is amazing, do you have one at your house?_

There was no 'Astoria' written on the end. Draco pulled at the string tying the package. The book inside was thick enough, and looked interesting. Draco flipped it over to the back, and read the paragraph describing it before sitting down with some parchment to start up another letter. But he'd try and get part way through the book before he sent it.

* * *

"It's from lover boy!" Nicolette yelped when the owl tapped on the window. By now, the entire House knew that Astoria Greengrass was writing letters and was maybe in love with the recipient, but no one knew who he was, except for Nicolette.

Astoria blushed and ripped the paper from her friends hands.

_I'm completely aware that you didn't answer my question about your birthday,_ it started, and Astoria felt a little thrill at the fact that they were so familiar with each other that they didn't need a beginning 'Dear Person.' She'd thought long and hard about writing his name there. "Hey, everyone! She's blushing!" yelled Nicolette and there were giggles all around the common room.

_The whole table jinx sounds like something the Weasley twins might have done, can you remember that Portable Swamp they made when Umbridge was around (is that still there?) and yes, I really do think Professor Dumbledore would have let it happen, no doubt he'd think it was completely absolutely hysterical. I can't recall the time he made the House tables disappear for the Christmas Feast, as I only stayed once or twice at Christmas._

_The book - the book is amazing. I'm about halfway through it, and I can tell it's going to be on my favorites list. Thanks for forcing me to read it, and don't deny it - you forced it. But I'm not complaining. Oh, and I think the drawings may have made my day. That's neat bit of charm work, to make the drawings dance like that. Did you draw them yourself?_

_I actually have a huge library at my house. It's my favorite room, I'd sleep in there if I could - the house-elves won't let me. But actually, I went through with my idea, and am renting a small flat in London, the house-elves are instructed to keep the manor decently clean, and do whatever the hell they like until I get back. If I ever go back. So direct all your owls there._

_Draco._

"He asked about the drawings," Astoria told Nicolette, who told the whole common room accordingly.

* * *

Draco turned the stove on, and cracked a couple of eggs into the pan, but when the owl ran into the window, he prodded the food with his wand and opened the glass so that the owl could hop on his arm.

"Thanks," he said to it, as it ruffled its feathers, "Want some eggs?" The bird blinked assent, and flew off after gobbling down his entire breakfast.

So Draco set his wand to work making more eggs as he sat down and broke the seal on Astoria's letter, pulling out a chair to sit in

_Yep, the portable swamp is still there, in a little portioned off area in the corridor, I always thought that that would disappear one day, but never has. It's always amazed me when I pass it every day on the way to Charms. I am completely acing that class right now. But I got a less than passing grade in Potions. You don't have any spare notes or anything I could use to scrape that up to at least an Acceptable?_

_The book I have forced on everyone. They all thanked me. It's a book that's really just meant to be forced onto people, I can't deny it. I think it's just the way it's is. It's so beautiful. Look at me waxing poetic about books. I love them._

_The book, of course, has a sequel, which is also amazing, and I have it but would never ever ever let you borrow. It's in my very private never to be borrowed from library collection, (which is actually very expansive) so go buy it yourself!_

_The drawing's - the drawing's were actually a group effort. Everyone in my house added one, because, well, you're not exactly a secret in the Ravenclaw common room. I blame my friend Nicolette. She got one of your first letters and asked, and it's common for her to go around yelling that I got a letter. So naturally the whole house knows about you. Well, not who you are, but about you. - _here there were several blotches, and a few scrapes, then in a different handwriting**_ Hi I'm Nicolette and I'm Astoria's very bestest friend! Oh, and I may have also totally blurted out to the entire House of the fact that she has some lover boy writing her romantic letters, ooooooh. But seriously. Don't break her heart, or I'll break your face._**

The letter stopped abruptly there, and Draco furrowed his brow, sliding his heavy silver ring around his finger. Um, what? A second owl soared through the window, dropping a letter on the previous one, which was also, by the looks of it, from Astoria.

The second letter was word for word, exactly the same all the way up until the note from Nicolette. The second letter had no note from Nicolette, and just ended with 'Astoria' and a neat rip at the bottom where something had been torn off.

Draco liked to know that there were people who cared about Astoria. He could only assume that Astoria had been writing a letter and Nicolette had commandeered her quill and wrote a note, and so Astoria had rewrote it another peice of paper. But why had the first letter with the note from Nicolette also been sent?

A third owl flew through the window. It carried a small rolled note, which Draco rolled. There two pieces of paper inside. The first was a note from Astoria, a rip at the top prompting him to hold it up to her letter and see the tears matched. It read, P.S _My birthday's actually two weeks away. And I have a huge favor to ask of you. There's a Hogsmeade weekend, the weekend before Christmas, and I'd really like you to come down and say hi. Is that way too much to ask? It's too much to ask. Isn't it? It is. _

The second note was in Nicolette's handwriting._ She tore this off the bottom because she was too scared to ask you to come. I sent both the first letter with the interjection from me, so you'd know who I was, and then the note from her because I'm asking you to come. She really likes you._

It looked like Draco was going to Hogsmeade.

* * *

In case that got confusing...Astoria wrote a letter, Nicolette decided to write a side note in it, so Astoria copied it onto another piece of parchment. She added the P.S but wasn't brave enough to send it, so she ripped that part off. Nicolette sent the copy of the letter with her 'Hi I'm Nicoloette' speech so Draco would know who she was, and then sent another with the P.S from Astoria and her own side note to make Draco go to Hogsmeade. It's still confusing. Oops.


End file.
